Douche Bag - n. A bag for holding the water or fluid used in douching (the cleansing of a woman's genitals)
Douchebag - n. (Slang) A jerk; a mean or rude person. An idiot; a dim-witted person. An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears. (wikipedia)
Douchebag - n. (Slang) A jerk; a mean or rude person. An idiot; a dim-witted person. An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears. (wikipedia)
An asshole...
So anyway, it appears that sometime around the end of August last I fell victim to a mild bit of identity theft. Some chum-slurping, cockswipe douchebag hacked my Ebay and Paypal accounts and changed the shipping address I had on file. I discovered this on Tuesday of this week as I began inquiring as to the whereabouts of five CD's purchased on Ebay around New Year's. At first I wasn't sure what I was more shocked by - that some dick-fuck hacked my shit, or that it had been almost five months since I had purchased anything on Ebay. Needless to say, I won't be receiving my CD's anytime in the near future - they were shipped to Florida. On a positive note, once Paypal concludes their investigation into the matter, should they find in my favor, I'll be reimbursed for all charges...so...yea! (grrrr....)
So, to one Marcus Griggs of 2731 Willow Run, Orlando, Florida...consider yourself warned. If I ever find you, I will (quite literally) nail your ass to a wooden chair, sew your eyelids open, and force you to watch as I slowly murder your entire family - I am Billy Fucking Bedlam motherfucker - that means your parents, your grandparents, your brothers, your sisters, your kids, even your dog! I think I'll just shoot your wife, girlfriend (boyfriend?) or whatever in the head - decorate your shirt in brain-matter grey. I haven't decided if I should sexually violate any of them yet, but if I do, my next big decision will be whether to do it before or after they're dead (my moral compass is completely fucking busted - it just spins counter-clockwise)! I'll then puree their remains and force-feed them to you through a funnel lodged firmly in your mouth. And for my coup de grace (if the distended stomach didn't already kill you), I intend to saw your testicles off with a rusty butter-knife and leave you to bleed to death.
I am...in short...a sadistic, vindictive motherfucker!
Ok, so...yeah, obviously he'll likely never read this. But hey, what the fuck right?! I still get some small measure of satisfaction thinking about it! Can you imagine the rage I'd be in if he'd done something really serious, you know, like bid on shit - or worse, take actual money from me! I'd straight-up be huntin' me down a muthafucka, yo! Florida's nice this time of year isn't it? And you know what really pisses me off? I've gotta win the fucking CD's all over again!!!
(*mumbles under breath) douchebag...
37 comments:
Ok, so, I may have crossed a line with the whole "sexually violate" thing...maybe...
But allow me to clarify - I never said I intended to place my penis in a dead person. I never said anything about placing my penis in anyone in any manner whatsoever. I might however feel the urge to rape their asshole with a splintered 2X4.
It's just something I'm mulling over...casually mulling over.
...........let's go fuck him up.
I don't know, I find your reaction to be pretty mild, overall. If you are Billy Bedlam, I am Garland Green.
First, I suppose I should be bothered by your comments but since I know you couldn't actually bring yourself to do physical harm to another human being (unless, of course, wife and/or child were in danger) I'm not worried.
Second, I can't (I can) believe that this dumbass would be so moronic as to use his actual mailing address so that you would know where he lives.
We should totally sign him up for all sorts of shit to be sent to his address.
Well...you're half right (or is that two-thirds?). I actually have very little problem with the injury or death of someone (provided they have it coming...I suppose that's a bit subjective though isn't it - how does one measure whether or not another person deserves to suffer and/or die?). I suppose most of us can agree on who does or doesn't qualify as a worthless scumbag. Hell man, my own mother thinks I'm a cold, ruthless bastard - thinks I would have made a terrific contract killer (had life's circumstances played out a bit different that is). As for injuring Sam or the Monkey...fuggedaboudit! The Mob ain't got nothin' on the kind of wrath that would ensue from such a thing - they're next of kin would get an anonymous finger in the mail...that'd be the last they were ever heard from again.
I never thougth about the prospects of an all out junk-war against this guy's address. Intriguing to say the least...care to assist?
Absolutely. I say we begin with feminine hygiene products and other various and sundry health-related items. Then we should sign him up to receive information from every performing arts organisation in the country. Perhaps there are also gay-themed cruises we could sign him up for, too!
I don't know; the sky's the limit!
Send him gay porn. Obviously, that's the first line of defense. Er, offense. Whatever. Skip the foreplay and just hit the red button right off the bat. Gay porn. LOTS of it, and not the tame "oh, look at my penis" kind, either. I'm talking the most vile, degenerate type of sadomasochistic fetishes.
Not that I'd know anything about any of that stuff.
Ahem.
Be glad you didn't know me during my sophomore year at Truman. I was generally bored with my life, and my roommate and I would put our heads together and come up with all sorts of bizarre revenge schemes.
Fortunately, those days are past me. [brushes off sleeve in a very unconvincing gesture of indifference]
For example, send him a package that's just big enough that it can't fit in any mailbox, so it has to be delivered in person for him to sign for it, or it gets left up against his door. Either way, the return address can be seen by the handler as well as who knows who else. The return address is a phony one that you write yourself, with the company name "Dildo of the Month Sampler Club." Doesn't matter what's actually in the box.
I can do better than that. That's just what was on the tip of my brain.
As the Captain said in a phone conversation with me the other day, "Most supervillains really just become supervillains out of boredom."
You're monologuing.
And now we are dialoguing.
Get out of my soliloquy.
I think this is the largest number of comments on a PikeyPost in quite some time. Then again, it's one of the few posts in quite some time.
PikeyPost. Hmmm. That's a good name for your studio...if you ever start composing again.
Get it?! 'cause you're the Pikey and it's Postproduction! Get it?! Huh?!
Right. Those were supposed to be redirected to the Administrator.
PUBES.
Cool...I finally got "pubed".
Now I'm a contender, now I'm...somebody. Instead of a nobody; instead of a bum - which is what I was...
...UNTIL I GOT "PUBED" BABY!!!
YEA!!! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED! I GOT PUBED!
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
i got pubed!
"No more drugs...for that man!"
I remember the first time I got pubed. I'm still trying to get the stain out.
Sorry about that, Herr. It was my first pubing, and I got a little carried away.
Why don't we send that douche bag a care package of all our pubes? I better start growing mine out, then... because just last week I shaved my pubes into a Superman "S" pattern.
I'm just a classy kind of guy.
Isn't it nice that, since no one else reads this blog, we can come here and vent some really weird shit?
I know, I'm completely uninhibited! Much like the pikey on my blog. Pikey, want to switch blogs?
One does not simply walk into the Pikey's blog and start writing. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil here that does not sleep. The great eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.
An incursion underwater to retake an impregnable blogspot held by an elite team of pikeys in possession of eighty-one hostages and fifteen guided rockets armed with VX poison gas.
You drill the hole, drop the nuke, and you leave.
Hudson, sir. He's Hicks.
Pikey, sir. He's the bard.
Alright...STOP THAT! It's silly! We'll have no more of this sillyness, understand?
It struck me recently after rereading your post that I forgot to remind you that...uh...you're white.
AM I?!?! AM I?!?!...oh, I guess I am. Guess I should cancel that audition with Showtime at the Apollo!
...and that subscription to Vibe magazine.
...and that application for my NAACP member card.
...and...no, sorry, nevermind...that's just pushing it!
My mom always called my dad an Irish n*****; does that count for something?
Sheeeeeit.
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